what was supposed to happen?
whose instructions were half-glimpsed then forgotten?
reality updates, its worn edges crumbling:
the momentary fulfillment
of ambulatory dreaming

the song evolved into cacophony
the illustrious august personage was
just another trickster with a grudge
the abacus prostrated itself in front
of the system it served
the oracle was consumed by fog

sluggish centuries deliberately impede progress
we were working on an illuminated manuscript
the overwrought words of an idiotic story

the barrel & the fish, the metaphor loading machine
grey consciousness bemoaning the possibilities
presented by living
time-slave pinned to the dial

the ongoing struggle between circles and lines
in which this poem is merely a skirmish
between poorly equipped garrisons
of sensation
a pause before chaos creeps in

because they’ve called time at the tar pit
& the dinosaurs have stopped thrashing
& the person pushing the glaciers
has holes in his mittens
& the unbuilt cathedrals do not yet
transmit wonder

the past’s lack of ideas terrifies me
er, just stuff doing stuff until
witnesses can be beamed in
I have nothing new to add to the field of jungle morality
with my cave painting camera
and goretex pelt

how do you define meanwhile
when the jump cut skips the totality
what is this pen other than
incredibly unlikely
which colours have compressed under
the weight of millennia
which bright spark
thought to bring a scribe with them

no death-fear before sentient life
no arguments when the cells divide
the frayed curtain sways in
the unregistered space, marking
the beginning of a dangerous competition
& our unconnected molecules dance
in a billion places
waiting to be knitted together
no, waiting’s not the word, intentionality
impossible to gauge before
they are accidentally assembled into proud
questioning apes
who shiver as they remember
how to speak again